Back Into The Fight
by Vvheelthewriter
Summary: Angela Ziegler turns her genius to the world of veterinary medicine. Running a small clinic out of her mother's old Brooklyn home, she begins taking on clients at a breakneck pace, pleasing and overwhelming her as she deals with her feelings for an NYPD officer whose K-9 she helped the night before her opening day.
1. Chapter 1

In an empty three story building nestled between a cafe and a flower shop, Angela Ziegler spent most of the day sweeping. She managed to scrub every tile and window in the place, vacuuming the carpets and sanitizing the backrooms on the first floor. When her mother had owned the place, it was a walk-in clinic that quickly became overburdened by overcrowding and New York City taxes.

A United States citizen through her mother, Angela was able to take ownership of the building once she came to adulthood. Her mother never had the heart to properly rid of the place and her father's wealth helped her purchase the property for full-ownership until Angela could use it. Though they died when she was younger than her teens, the intention was always for her to have this place for her own usage.

After their deaths, she was quickly adopted by her father's German friend Reinhardt and was able to apply for German citizenship. With her father being Swiss, that gave her a unique tri-citizenship status. She hummed along to the soft music playing from her phone, happy with how the place looked. She was finished just in time for the furniture to arrive.

Over the next few days, the street's usual happenings would be interrupted by the flow of furniture entering the room. Two teenage girls peeked their heads into the trucks curiously, gossiping about the strange equipment mixed in with the personal furniture.

Reinhardt, Torbjorn, and Brigitte flew in from their respective countries to assist her, making a family visit out of it in the process. Between those three, she had more muscle than she knew what to do with. They ordered lunch from the cafe next door while Reinhardt spent an absurd amount of time complimenting the cook, an older Egyptian woman, for her work.

The serious teenager that took their orders looked the spitting image of the cook and flitted around curiously, looking like she wanted to say something repeatedly. She'd change her mind at the last moment, peaking Angela's interest. Brigitte dug into her food, munching happily. The Swedish teen was in cahoots with Mercy to convince her father to let her to go an engineering school in New York City. Angela assured her that Torbjorn would be more likely to agree once she was actually accepted to the school. Only a matter of months and they would know.

-0-

Later, Angela would nearly collapse from exhaustion on her bed, happy to finally have something other than a mattress on the floor. She kept her bedroom on the third floor with the master bathroom and balcony. The second was reserved as an office, pull-out couches for guests, and a greenhouse area for a small flower garden. The first floor...would be the fruits of her labor.

She smiled at the ceiling, excited to finally open her clinic. She'd learned from her mother's problems with having one. Appointments only, no overburdening with clients, and no free care. As much as she wanted to provide that, her clinic would crash very quickly without steady funding. And...her clients would all be of a different nature.

After finishing her high school diploma and bachelor's in science by the time she was 17, she was stumped upon arriving to vet school. She was able to breeze through the courses, but she couldn't decide on a particular specialty. Reinhardt had raised her around his horses and the animals on his ranch in Germany and she was tempted to go that route...but she wanted to help all types. Her professors and counselors warned her that it would be harder, but it was possible and she was able to focus and study enough to specialize in all forms, from dogs to reptiles to farm animals.

Armed with her degree and a sunny demeanor, she spent the next few years working in Zurich as a general veterinarian and learning all she could in a practical manner. She worked with specialists in every area and exceeded her peers' expectations.

Moving to New York City, Brooklyn in particular, was a feat in itself and she couldn't be more grateful for her Swedish and German family for coming to help her. Reinhardt promised another visit and Brigitte once again conspired with her to get into that engineering school.

-0-

It was two nights before her official opening that the completely unexpected would happen. She was dressed for the night in a gown of soft gray and preparing her evening tea when she heard a whimpering from outside. She exited the first floor kitchen, peering around the sterile white halls of the clinic. It was rather large by New York City standards, but not large enough to effectively hide someone. Especially when the furniture she did have was sparse. Grabbing her pepper spray, she approached the front door, turning on a lamp as she went.

The whimpering wasn't her imagination. With trembling fingers, she turned on the front lights, illuminating the sidewalk in front of her clinic. She blinked in surprise when she didn't see anything. Opening the front door, she gasped slightly when she saw a man slumped against the brick wall of her building, a large dog sitting next to him. From the uniform, she could tell he was a NYPD officer and clearly hurt. The german shepherd whimpering next to him wasn't doing so well himself.

The man groaned, flinching when Angela moved to touch him. He looked up at her, leveling her with hazel eyes, "You a vet?"

She swallowed, slightly entranced by him. He was incredibly handsome, in that look-but-don't-touch way, the way Reinhardt wouldn't be happy with. Nodding, she kept a hand on his shoulder, "Yes...you are hurt."

"A German vet…" he spoke absently and she ignored the urge to correct him. Her fingers flitted across his chest, where a dark stain of blood was growing, "I'm fine. Help Reaper."

She looked at the german shepherd, noting he seemed to be sporting a stab wound, "Can either of you walk?"

"Yeah," he groaned as he stood up, brushing off her offer of help. Gingerly, he picked up the 100-pound dog, impressing Angela with his strength. She led them inside, and he set the dog down on the bed in the examination room. He slumped in the nearby chair, once again waving her off when she tried to treat him, "I got this one, doc. Focus on him."

She frowned. He was being rather commanding for stumbling upon a stranger's doorstep this late in the evening. Still, she turned to the dog, who panted in pain but laid on the bed obediently. She spoke softly to the dog named Reaper, gathering materials to sanitize and suture the wound on his side. After careful examination, it wasn't life-threatening, but he would have to keep from harsh exercise for a while.

If Angela's deductions were correct, Reaper was a K-9 dog and the man, who hadn't introduced himself yet, was his officer. She supposed that was the reason she was letting a stranger into her home when she was barely dressed in anything but a henley nightgown and rubber gloves. Reaper took to the sedative obediently, falling asleep like a puppy on his side. She rubbed his belly and scratched his ears to soothe him, smiling gently. When she was done stitching and binding the wound, she pat the dog on the head, "Good boy, Reaper."

She looked up, removing her gloves for proper disposal, and put on a new pair all while the man watched her. He raised a hand when she took a step forward, "No need, I'm alright."

"At least let me sanitize it. I can't very well let an officer leave my clinic and get an infection."

The man looked around at the bare room, "I doubt there's a single germ in here to infect me."

"I appreciate your commendation of my sanitisation skills. Now remove your shirt."

"Fancy words, doc."

"Angela Ziegler," she replied to his tone, ignoring the tease in it, "now remove your jacket."

He groaned, giving in to her nagging. He removed the NYPD winter coat, dropping it on the ground by his chair. Next he unbuttoned the shirt, leaving him in a standard-issue white t-shirt. It was stained wine red with blood on his left shoulder and along his collarbone.

She frowned as he removed the last garment, "Why didn't you go to the hospital?"

"Didn't have time, was worried about the damned dog," he cursed with affection, looking at the sleeping canine.

She began to wipe away the blood seeping down his chest, "These are stab wounds."

"Yeah, gonna have a bit of paperwork for this one."

"You often go on your own like this?"

"Nah, my partner was just chasing down the robber. Told him I'd make his sorry ass regret it if he stopped to worry about a few paper cuts on me."

She finished cleaning the wounds. They weren't bad enough to need sutures, but she warned the officer that he would need to get them checked. She wrapped his shoulder and placed a padded bandage across his collarbone. Realizing she was fretting a bit too much, her hands all over a handsome stranger's chest, she quickly backed away. He reached into his pile of clothing, where his radio, utility belt, and other effects were, and grabbed his cell phone. He gave her a quick glance before dialing a number, speaking to someone with an agitated tone, "Yeah I'm fine, Reaper is too, we're at some clinic in Brooklyn, I don't know the name I guess it's new. Saw it on a flyer at the bus stop." Angela handed him her business card, where her name, clinic address, and work phone number was printed. He read the address for the voice on the other line.

An hour later, the officer was carefully redressed in his uniform with the jacket tucked under his arm. Before he could stalk off to wait for his partner, she boldly stepped toward and tapped the nameplate pinned to his shirt, "Officer Reyes."

"Er, yeah. Guess it's rude not to give a lady your name."

She flushed, suddenly hyper aware that she was still only in her nightgown. She'd managed not to get any blood on it. A man stepping through her front door broke their eye contact.

"Reyes! What the fu- hell, shit- where were you? I thought you were dead on the street!" The voice was loud in the quiet evening air, surprising Angela. His accent was thick, likely the American south, and he wore a navy blue cowboy hat on his head that she was sure wasn't NYPD-approved. The man looked at her in surprise, confusion on his rugged features, "You went to a vet? A small-time vet?"

She bristled, "I am not small."

"A German small-time vet?"

She groaned, rubbing her face, "I am Swiss, not German. Officer Reyes, please take your dog home so he can rest in his own bed."

The cowboy snorted, "More like his own house."

Reyes glared at his partner, then turned uncomfortably to Angela, "Sorry for the…" he motioned lamely to the disheveled examination room.

"No need, I am glad you two are alright. You came to the right person," she gave him a gentle smile, knowing he probably felt like he was indebted to her. Whether he would understand or not, it was her duty and her pleasure to help others. She thrived off of it.

The cowboy tipped his hat before taking the dog into his arms. Seems his strength was close in match to Reyes's even though he struggled a little more than his partner did, "Name's McCree. We'll just be gettin' out of your hair. Have a good evening, ma'am."

She watched as the two men exited her clinic, figuring she was at the point that she might as well open today instead of her planned tomorrow.

-0-

She didn't have any local friends, and she didn't want to make a commotion of it, so her first day opened was just like any of the following would be. She put out ads in the paper and more flyers at bus and subway stations. They clarified that she was appointment only, so she knew she might be turning a portion of potential clientele off.

On her third day, she was preparing for one of her first cat appointments when a teenager entered the clinic, loudly popping gum. She had a unique undercut with braided ombre hair that complimented her olive skin and violet eyes. Her hands were shoved deeply into the pockets of her studded leather jacket. She stared Angela down, trying to read her like a book.

Luckily, Angela kept a neutral stance. Nobody could ever read her.

The stare-off continued until the teenager popped her gun again and flashed a grin, "Papa said you were real pretty."

Her eyes widened, "What?"

"You saved him and mi perrito a couple of days ago. He's been whining about the itchy bandages but he's a good patient and won't take them off. I think he needs your permission or something. How'd you do it? He wouldn't even listen to Chief Morrison if the old grump threatened him with his job."

Angela swallowed, taking in the information she was given all at once, "He should get it checked out by a doctor. My speciality isn't people."

"People and dogs are all the same when it comes to stab wounds. Only less hair. Well, maybe not on Papa…" the teenager mused, smirking when Angela flushed.

She wasn't lying, Officer Reyes had dark hair along his arms, chest, and lining down his stomach. She'd seen that up close, having to touch him quite a bit to prod the wounds. She'd been purely medical in the moment, but now…

She hated how weak her voice sounded, "Is there something you came here for, Miss Reyes?"

The girl wrinkled her nose, "Sombra. And nah, I just wanted to check this place out, check you out. Now I know why he's been non-stop talking about you." Angela blinked in surprise, taken aback considering he'd hardly been polite to her and hadn't even told her his name. She had to find it out from his nameplate. "Yeah, I was surprised too. Papa's an emotional tree stump. But...he's stubborn and you helped him in the middle of the night. So...thank you. For helping them both." Sombra flushed slightly, like she didn't say those words often. She looked a little less sure of herself as she waited for Angela's reply.

"I'm glad they are alright, Sombra. Tell your father he may come by if he would rather keep the same doctor. Though, again, I don't really have any specialty for people. So it might not work with his insurance," she grinned and Sombra shied away from her soft gaze.

"Yeah...I'll let him know. Thanks Doctor Ziegler."

"Angela. Tell him to bring Reaper, too. He tends to be better with conversation."

Sombra grinned, back to her chipper mood, "You got that right. Adios, doctor. "

She waved the teenager goodbye, finishing up with her paperwork preparation for her upcoming appointment. She was already working on the clinic computer's vet system to help implement client information and insurance. She sighed, knowing she would eventually need to hire a proper receptionist, but for now she would handle it all herself.

She dropped her pencil in surprise when the waitress from next door and another young woman came barging in, carrying three egyptian mau cats and a kitten between them, "Doctor Ziegler! We need your help!"

Angela heaved a heavy sigh before leading the girls to the back room tailored specifically for wily cats. It seems her 'appointment-only' rule was slowly going out the proverbial window.


	2. Chapter 2

The two brunettes stood in her examination room, freaking out a little as they attempted to wrangle the cats. Angela found a case to place the kitten in safely as she evaluated one of the adults, "What's going on?"

The taller one, the waitress from the cafe next door with a gold beret in her hair, exchanged glances with the other teenage before replying, "They got into mother's baking chocolate. Normally we keep them out of the kitchen and I was only gone for a second...but Asim was very determined today. He's the bad one," she frowned at the brown mau in her arms.

"He tends to influence the others," the other girl replied, juggling two lighter cats in her arms. Her accent was a different one, thicker, and one of the cats in her arms was attempting to swat at her long silky hair.

She evaluated each cat, examining them for signs of poisoning or lethargy. Fareeha, the girl from next door, waited outside with Satya in the waiting room. When Angela called for them, the girls came running,

"All of them are alright, but it seems Asim has some minor illness from the chocolate. I can prescribe something to help with the vomiting, but we will need to call your mother."

Fareeha looked slightly terrified, brown eyes widening, "Do we have to tell her?"

Satya frowned, "She's going to make us sanitize the whole cafe...including the outside."

Angela sighed, "I understand you're worried about punishment, but it's very important that you get this prescription for Asim. And I do need an adult to be involved."

Fareeha fished into her pocket, mumbling curses that she was a year away from adulthood. She called Ana Amari, speaking to her in worried Egyptian, before hanging up after a thorough scolding, "She said she'll get the prescription when she gets home from the store."

Angela nodded, writing off the prescription and handing it to Fareeha before grabbing some cardboard crates to safely transport the cats. As Fareeha was taking the cats next door one at a time, Satya looked around the clinic with curiosity.

"It is quite sparse in here."

Angela nodded, "I haven't been open very long. The time to make the clinic more homely hasn't been available for me."

"What animals do you treat?"

"Every kind. I learned all specialties so my clinic would turn nobody away."

Satya seemed to quiet for a second, "Even scorpions?"

Angela stared, "Scorpions?"

Satya flushed, turning away, "Never mind."

Fareeha was in the clinic then, and approached the flushed girl with a hand on her arm, "Don't be embarassed," she looked at Angela, "Satya's got pet scorpions. They're super cool and terrifying. They split their crickets in half with their little pincers. Brutal."

Angela smiled gently, "That's quite the pet. Do your scorpions need a vet?"

Satya and Fareeha seemed surprised at her suggestion. Satya blushed as she replied, "No, I was just wondering."

Fareeha gently elbowed Satya with a grin, "Her scorpions are fat and happy. Well...as happy as scorpions could be. Thanks, Dr. Ziegler, for helping our dumb ass cats. Mother is going to make me mow the lawn with scissors but at least Asim will be alright."

"Angela is fine. And please tell your mother she may come by if she has any questions."

Fareeha nodded, but Satya was quiet in thought, "Angela?"

"Hmm?" she turned from the computer to look at the Indian girl.

"There is a woman who lives in the penthouse of my apartment building that raises show tarantulas. I overheard her speaking to the desk clerk that she was struggling to find a more personal vet for them and that one of her favorites was having eating issues. She's some famous ballerina at the New York City Ballet, but she's been kind to me. Would it be alright if I told her about your clinic?"

Angela blinked, "I'm not sure she'd be interested in a small clinic like mine...but I wouldn't mind offering her help if she needs it."

"The only reason she's been turning down so many vets is because they're unwilling to go to her place to see them. She refuses to transport her tarantulas outside of doing so for shows."

"Arachnids become very stressed when moved from their homes so I could understand her worry. Well, I don't mind making house calls. It's not something I would do for a dog or cat, but a little thing like a tarantula seems worthy if not for the curiosity of seeing what a show tarantula looks like."

Satya grinned, "I'll give her your business card."

Angela wouldn't admit it to the girls, but when she googled and found Amelie Lacroix later, she was a tad bit intimidated. She wasn't just a famous ballerina, she was a world famous prima ballerina. She rarely smiled in photos, but every interview with her showed a heart of gold beneath the cold personality. She seemed humble. Angela hoped she was able to hold up to her standards.

This would be quite the client for her little clinic, but it was a goal to aim for at least.

-0-

A week and a half later, it was a rainy Sunday morning. The sky was gray, and the rumbling thunder encouraged Angela to brew a nice lemon tea. She sat on a soft fabric couch next to her budding garden, watering her flowers since they were protected under glass from the outside elements. All her clients for the day had rescheduled; dragging a pet to the vet was hard enough without rain.

Angela frowned, suddenly feeling incredibly lonely. Her apartment was cold and slightly humid from the weather, and she fought the urge to hug herself. For the first time in a long time, she yearned for a warm touch. Something to comfort her. She kept no pets of her own, knowing she wouldn't have the time. Perhaps she should get a fish tank. She peered behind her at a wall next to her desk, where a wide open space was. It was something to consider.

The other consideration was for another person's voice to fill the silence. She didn't have time to go out dating and the idea of any sort of online meetings was unappealing. Being someone who worked and studied most of her life at a constant rate left little time to learn how to be social and charming. Angela knew she was nice enough, but men and women rarely went for someone who was just nice.

She shook her head, grabbing for a novel from the side table. She didn't need to impress anyone. If they didn't like her how she was, she didn't want them. Still…

The clinic was closed, so she was surprised to hear a knock on her front door. She stood, blanket drifting off her onto the couch. When she came downstairs, she paused for a moment, seeing the silhouette of a man and a dog through the glass window.

She opened the door, smiling at Officer Reyes and Reaper, "Good morning, officers."

Reyes looked uncomfortable, "Er, it wasn't raining this hard when we left." He gestured to Reaper, who was soaked but seemed unbothered.

She grinned, "No problem, I'll fetch you some towels."

When she came back with two towels from upstairs, Reyes was standing in the middle of her clinic, Reaper's leash in his hand. Angela handed him one and draped Reaper in the other. As she pressed the towel into his thick fur, she peered to look at his side, "The skin looks good as new. He's healed well."

"He had a good doctor," Reyes replied quietly and Angela blushed. She scrubbed the dog down as Reyes removed his jacket and pressed the towel to his face and damp hair. Reaper whined happily when Angela scratched at his big ears.

When he was damp instead of soaking wet, Reyes reached into the jacket and pulled out a thick plastic clipboard, opening it to pull out some paperwork, "Thought you might want to get paid for your services, doc. Luckily, NYPD's got something of a worker's comp."

Angela stood as Reaper shook, trotting around to sniff now that he was free from his leash, "Oh, I wasn't worried about that. You chasing down a robber on my street is worth more than a simple patch up."

Reyes looked at her slightly bewildered, hazel eyes widened, "You weren't worried about getting paid?"

"No, not at all," Angela grinned and gathered the damp towels into a ball, "if it was possibly all my services would be free."

She sighed forlornly for a moment, then realized Reyes had gone quiet. She turned to him, catching him staring, and he cleared his throat, "Er, uh, well I'd rather you get paid anyways. It's coming out of insurance anyways."

She took the paperwork, smiling, "If you insist, Officer Reyes." She signed the paperwork, handing it back so he could place it in the clipboard.

"Just Reyes is fine. Or Gabe, that's my first name," he muttered unnecessarily. Angela wondered why he looked so flustered, when the night she'd patched him up he was completely distant from her.

"Gabriel's a beautiful name."

He smiled a little, looking uncomfortable, "Only my mama ever called me Gabriel."

"Speaking of," she placed a hand on her hip, "your daughter visited me."

"Er, yeah, she told me. Sorry about that. She's kind of a brat and too nosy for her own good."

"It's alright, really. I quite liked her."

"...you did?"

"Oh yes. She took me by surprise but she's a sweetheart. Quite lovely hair."

Reyes grimaced, "Yeah she did the whole undercut thing without asking. Melted my damn heart when she said she wanted to match mine. Couldn't stay mad at her for it, though I'd rather she not with all the makeup, but if she likes it it ain't hurting anybody."

Angela smiled, leaning on her arm against the counter, "You're a good father. I know it's typical for the mother to be a bigger influence on hair and makeup, but I can hardly blame her for wanting to match."

Reyes seemed to pick up on her compliment of his appearance, and he blushed, but his words were slightly cagey, "Yeah mom's not...in the picture. We just got each other."

Angela frowned, "I'm sorry to hear that."

"There's more to it, but only head doctors get to make me open up like that," he grinned slightly and Angela returned it.

Reaper nosed her side and she scratched at his ears, speaking to the big dog, "Have you been taking care of your father, sir?" The dog whined in excitement, wagging his tail at her baby talk.

Reyes watched them, a far-off look in his eyes. Angela stood and approached him, "Has your injury healed? Sombra said you were having trouble with the bandages."

"Sombra..." he grumbled under his breath before answering her, "Yeah, bandages came off a few days ago. Wounds look a little swollen but they've pretty much healed."

As much as she was tempted to ask him to look, she wasn't sure how seeing him shirtless again would affect her professional demeanor, "Make sure you go a people doctor for them. Just to check."

"I dunno, I kind of liked the whole two-for-one thing with Reaper. Don't need to make two trips."

She flushed and opened her mouth to speak when the door opened. The person in the doorway didn't knock and looked distinctly annoyed.

"Papa you said you would be ten minutes! I can't keep waiting forever, I need to know if Luis is going to tell Soraya that he loves Maria-" Sombra paused her unannounced strolling into the clinic, looking between her flustered father and the woman petting her dog, "Am I interrupting?"

"Mocoso," Reyes grumbled before looking at his daughter, "You couldn't wait ten more minutes?"

Sombra placed her hands on her hips, frowning, before a smirk graced her lips, "I don't make you wait when we watch Maria la del Barrio."

"What's that?" Angela asked.

Before Reyes could stop her, she replied, "Papa's favorite telenovela. He doesn't think Luis is going to tell Soraya because he's an emotional log, but I know Luis is going to figure out she was playing him all along-"

"Sombra," Reyes warned, frowning at her. They exchanged words in Spanish until Sombra pouted, calling for Reaper to come to her. The German shepherd trotted to her side and she put his leash on.

"Come on, already."

Angela grinned at the exchange, though she had no idea what was going on. She took his jacket in her hands and handed it to him, still smiling as he put it on, "Thank you for stopping by."

"Might make a habit of it...er, for Reaper."

"For Reaper, right," Sombra quipped from the doorway.

Reyes rubbed his forehead, "Alright, bye Dr. Ziegler."

As the father and daughter left her clinic, she called after them, "Call me Angela."

"Bye Angie," Sombra crooned, smirking up at her dad's glare.

Angela grinned, watching them disappear down the street. She poured a cup of lukewarm tea for herself and sat back on the couch in front of her garden, feeling warmer after the exchange.

-0-

Later, she tapped on her computer, sighing at the piling paperwork and appointments. The most common comment from her clients was that her clinic looked really sad and barren. They rarely saw her pretty furniture, the flower garden, or the photos on her second and third floor. The clinic itself looked so...sanitary. And she had no time for decorating with all the paperwork she had to do. She sighed...she needed a receptionist. Monitoring her budget, she found she was able to hire someone part time.

She placed some flyers around the bus stops and near the high school, waiting for someone to give her a call. She sighed, standing on the tiled floor in front of the window. Hopefully something would come of her hard work.


	3. Chapter 3

Angela sat perched on the front desk of her clinic, the soft sounds of folk music playing from her radio as she tried to cool down on such a hot day. Since she wasn't expecting anyone to come by, she tied the front of her tank top to show her toned stomach. Anything to cool off , she sighed, fanning herself with an empty folder.

She kept the phone pressed to her face, despite the sweat gathering there. On the line, Reinhardt boomed to her in German about his newest foal and the gory process of helping a horse give birth. He laughed and laughed as she paled slightly. She remembered being a teenager the first time she witnessed a horse give birth. Reinhardt never let her forget it when she fainted.

"Oh, my 12:00's here, I'll talk to you later, tschüs," she lied, hanging up with Reinhardt still cackling.

She slumped her shoulders, a little green from the memories, and turned to her kitchen to make some iced tea. She waited for the raspberry mix to cool down when the bell to her front door rang. She turned, quickly untying her shirt from its tie above her navel, and straightened her jean shorts.

When she reached the front of the clinic, a woman stood there looking around. The woman had shining brown and silvery hair tied into a braid and a smooth leather eye patch over one eye. Her face was impassive as she looked at the blank walls.

"Mrs. Amari," Angela began.

"Ana. These walls won't do."

"...I'm sorry?"

"I'll have Fareeha bring you some spare paintings my late Sam did. Allah knows we have no room left on our walls."

The doctor blushed, "Ana please, there's no need to-"

"The cats are doing well. Asim's nausea passed quickly. I cannot thank you enough for taking them in. Fareeha and Satya were wise to come to you, though they were unwise to let the situation happen in the first place. I have come to pay you."

"There is no need."

"I insist."

Angela glanced to the walls then back at Ana, "The paintings are beyond enough."

Ana raised an eyebrow, skeptical, but nodded in allowance. It seems they've struck a deal. Angela gestured towards her kitchen, "Would you like to have tea with me?"

Ana followed her, curious, before looking at the iced tea oddly, "European. And cold."

"Ah," Angela flushed, "it is a hot day outside."

"Do you have any appointments today, doctor?"

She checked her watch, "Not for three hours. It's slow with the heat."

"Indeed. Come with me," it was not a suggestion and Angela did not protest. She closed her clinic and they entered Ana's cafe, where Fareeha and Satya were playing a game of cards on the table. Or rather, they were attempting to stack the cards, but Fareeha's impatience made the feat unobtainable.

"Fareeha-" Ana snapped and her daughter stood to attention immediately, nearly knocking over the table, "fetch us the Koshary from the upper cupboard, please."

Fareeha nodded, looking at Angela briefly before going to the kitchen. She returned minutes later as Ana and Angela sat at a table. Angela peered curiously at the tea, following Ana's directions on the amount of cane sugar and mint to add. When she was done, she sipped the tea and felt the mint pleasantly go down her throat, "It is quite refreshing."

"Mmh," Ana sipped, "better than any cold nonsense."

Angela giggled, engaging in conversation with Ana while Satya helped Fareeha set up the card tower again. The cafe phone rang and Fareeha grabbed it, "Amari's Cafe, how may I help you?" after a pause, "Mother, it's for you."

Ana took the phone, "This is Ana. Oh, hello, Gabe." Angela perked slightly in interest. It had to be a coincidence. Ana's sharp eye picked up on Angela's curiosity, "Come over. That's an order. I'll see you in fifteen minutes."

She hung up before the other voice could reply. Angela blinked at her, then looked down at her tea when Ana stared at her for some time. As requested, Gabe Reyes arrived at the front of Ana's cafe, right in Angela's line of sight. She sipped her tea nervously as Ana stood to open the door.

Immediately, Ana placed her hands on Gabe's face, softly speaking to him in a greeting before pulling him into a hug. Gabe looked slightly confused, but returned it. Ana kept her hands on Gabe's arm before shooting him a wicked smile, "Come have tea with the pretty doctor and I?"

Gabe looked up, having not noticed Angela sitting there. Her eyes darted away, feeling like she was intruding on an intimate scene. She flushed, not wanting to interrupt his and Ana's...whatever that was.

Ana took him by the arm and sat in her chair as Gabe pulled out his own. He cleared his throat, looking between Angela and Ana suspiciously. Angela looked away, pointedly staring at the walls as she sipped her tea again. Fareeha came out from the kitchen with a cup of coffee, "Hey, uncle Gabe."

"Fareeha...and more importantly, coffee," he took the cup with a nod of thanks.

Fareeha stuck her tongue out at him, "I slave away making you coffee and this is how you treat me."

"You're only using me for that army recommendation."

Fareeha flushed, squeaking as Ana raised an eyebrow, "I thought you wanted to join the air force?"

Her daughter tangled her fingers nervously, "Yeah, but they're testing these new commando suits, like field armor but also like planes...I, er, what was that Satya? Coming!" She darted into the kitchen, despite no voice coming from it.

Gabe grinned at Ana, who shook her head, "You're a bad influence."

"Hey, the army's not so bad."

"You're going to turn my only child into a Transformer."

"More like a 'Jaegar'. Like from that old movie."

"Pacific Rim? That movie is fifty years old!"

"Newer than Transformers."

"I suppose," Ana sighed, finishing off her tea, "Doctor, how do you like it?"

Angela spoke for the first time since Gabe's arrival, "Please, call me Angela. And it's quite lovely, thank you."

"It's an Amari recipe. Come, come," she stood, ushering Angela and Gabe out of their chairs. Gabe clung to his coffee cup for dear life. The Egyptian woman led them upstairs, to the top floor where she kept her storage. Inside, framed paintings lined the whole place. Most depicted nature scenes, none with people in them, "My dearest Sam couldn't draw anything with a face, but he loved flowers. I think they might make beautiful additions to your office. I've been meaning to find more places to put them, but I'm afraid he's painted so much."

Gabe crossed his arms, "You should see my house. It's a goddamned tulip field in there."

Angela tried stifling her giggle, imagining such a dark intimidating man with a house that resembled a grandmother's. Ana sighed, beckoning Angela over to look through the paintings. As she did, she heard Ana whisper something to Gabe behind her. The veterinarian grimaced. Was it really necessary to be so obvious in front of her? It was strange enough she'd seen Ana's boyfriend with his shirt off, and had touched him quite a bit during that process. Now she had to listen to them while she rifled through a dead man's paintings.

This day was just becoming too strange. Angela turned to them, finding a small painting of a cottage she liked, and saw that Gabe's face was beet red. She couldn't tell if he was more embarrassed or frustrated. She blinked curiously at him, just barely missing Ana's conniving smirk in Gabe's direction.

So that's how it was. She sighed, "I found one I like. Perhaps I can stop by later to find some more?"

Ana nodded, a rare smile painting her face, "Of course, doctor, let me lead you out. I know you're quite busy with appointments."

Angela followed her out of the cafe, stepping out into the scorching sun. She groaned, covering her eyes so that she could see. Ana took the coffee cup that Gabe still had from his hands and whispered something else to him, grabbing his shoulder to pull him down to her level.

Before Angela could awkwardly turn away from the sight, Gabe interjected, "You, er, mind if I walk you home?"

Angela blinked at him, "I live next door."

"Right," he grimaced. Angela could swear she saw Ana snicker.

She relaxed her shoulders, giving in to his friendliness. He was only doing his job as a public servant, "Of course, thank you Gabe."

He stood by her side as she unlocked her door, flipping the sign to 'open', "You're just in time for my meeting with my new receptionist."

"Yeah?"

"Oh yes, I'm quite excited, but nervous. I'm sure it will be odd working with a stranger, but he's a former soldier who needs work and I thought that I might offer him a job here. With how intimidating he sounded, I'm certain I won't have any issues with criminals-" She stopped speaking, seeing a strange look of horror cross Gabe's face, "Are you alright?"

"This soldier, he from the United States military?"

"Oh no, sadly. If he were he'd be receiving more financial help."

Gabe suddenly relaxed, "Ah, right."

"Yeah," Angela said hesitantly, hearing a knock and moving to answer the door without quite looking, "he's an immigrant. Said he served in the Australian…military…"

Both Angela and Gabe silenced completely at the figure in the door. He barely fit through the frame, nodding at her, "Angela Ziegler."

"Mako Rutledge. How nice to finally meet you...in person."

Mako gazed around the room, "It is very white in here."

"Yes," Angela said a little dumbly, "I got a painting today."

"Hmm," Mako walked towards the receptionists's desk, "this will do."

Gabe blinked, stunned to silence. Angela supposed he was thinking she was going to reject Mako, but she had a better idea, "Mako, how would you like to work full-time instead?"

Mako looked at her with interest, "Yes."

"Brilliant," she went about showing him the filing system she'd installed, detailing that he would be assisting her with paperwork duties as well as untrained animal duties. If she had a large or unruly animal, she would instruct him in how to assist. Seeing he was a licenced bodyguard as well, she would pay him to keep her clinic safe and secure. "Officer Reyes can only do so much to keep our little street safe."

Mako looked towards Gabe, who leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. He was wearing his uniform, "Officer Reyes."

"Mr. Rutledge."

Mako turned to Angela, "Your boyfriend does not need to worry about me."

Angela reddened, eyes darting between Mako and Gabe, "I- he's not-"

"May I bring my pigs?" for such a large specimen, he spoke rather softly.

"Oh! Of course, so long as you keep an eye on them and clean up after them."

"Of course, Dr. Ziegler," he reached out his meaty hand, engulfing hers as she shook it.

She blushed happily, "Thank you for coming by, Mako! Why don't you start Monday, to make things simple?"

Mako nodded, giving her copies of all his legal documents before heading back out into the sun. Angela waved him goodbye, turning back to Gabe. The officer looked overwhelmed, "What?"

"Not often I see people like that get hired so quickly."

"It's best not to judge. He served his country, as you served yours."

Gabe nodded, rubbing the back of his neck, "Hey, Angela…"

"Hmm?" she was busy struggling to hang up the painting properly.

"Here, let me," the taller man said, approaching her and reaching right over her head to help straighten the painting. With all four of their hands, they managed to get it done. Her hips bumped his slightly and she giggled nervously, "Sorry."

"Right, uh," he cleared his throat, "so I wanted to ask you-"

The phone rang, causing Gabe to curse under his breath. Angela answered it, eyes widening when she heard the voice on the other end. She gave the voice a few one-word replies, nodding even though they couldn't see her. Hanging up, she looked at Gabe with wide eyes, "Amelie Lacroix wants to see me. Right this moment."

"...how do you know Amelie Lacroix?"

"Fareeha's girlfriend lives in her building. She connected us through her show tarantulas."

Gabe grimaced at the mention of the tarantulas, "Do you need to go now?"

"She said it's an emergency. I suppose I'll have to cancel my afternoon appointments real quick."

"Come on, I'll drive you."

Angela looked at him in confusion, "How do you know Amelie Lacroix?"

"She's my best friend's wife and her creepy pets are the bane of my Sunday evenings."

She grinned at that, "Alright, just give me ten minutes."

-0-

When Gabe said he would drive her, he failed to mention the motorcycle. Angela clung to him desperately, the shyness of touching a man with both her arms and legs long overshadowed by her fear. Gabe had asked her a total of twelve times if she was alright and each time she nodded, but she truly thought she might have died already.

So this was her heaven. Riding on a motorcycle with her arms and legs wrapped around a man. Angela grimaced; perhaps instead she'd gone to hell.

They zoomed down the roadway, Gabe's helmet on Angela. She began to relax when she heard him laugh. Even though it was at her expense, it was a really nice sound. Absently, she pressed her fingers to him more, feeling the hard lines of his stomach. She kept that way as they approached the high rise apartment building sticking out of the Brooklyn streets, where a French couple and their army of arachnids awaited.


End file.
